


To Revive Dante

by Goblinswarm



Category: Umineko no Naku Koro ni | When the Seagulls Cry
Genre: Bondage, Breeding, Come Inflation, Dark, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dubious Consent, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/F, F/M, Femslash, Food Kink, Foot Fetish, Impregnation, Multi, Non-Consensual Bondage, Non-Consensual Drug Use, The Author Regrets Everything, shoutout to grammerly for the beta, this is a dumpster of horn content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-29
Updated: 2019-12-29
Packaged: 2021-02-25 02:35:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22008577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Goblinswarm/pseuds/Goblinswarm
Summary: Beatrice wants to revive Dante, for that she needs Battler’s seed“I will have Dante, but for that I need the seed of my destined partner. You will bring him to me.” Beatrice said to her furniture, and so it was done.
Relationships: Beatrice the Golden Witch/Ushiromiya Battler, ushiromiya battler/seven stakes of purgatory
Comments: 1
Kudos: 10





	To Revive Dante

**Author's Note:**

> This is some porn I wrote as a Christmas present for my best friend. It is dark and un-beta'd. TBH it should not be read by anyone, but I'm putting it on AO3 for the curious and because I have not posted anything in ages. Everyone is OOC and tbh I don't know enough about Umineko to be qualified to write fic for it, but Umineko is my friend's favorite, as is Battler/Beatrice, so it had to be the subject of his present. 
> 
> This work is problematic and pornographic. 
> 
> CW/TW: noncon, dubcon, bondage, food fetish, foot fetish, breeding fetish

Satan slammed the bloated burlap sack at Beatrice’s feet and grinned. Beatrice sat enthroned in a great crimson armchair. Instead of an ottoman, she rested her feet on the slightly dipped back of Belphegor who posed on her hands and knees to support her Master’s pleasure.

“Master,” Satan said, “I have brought you your Quarry.”

Beatrice tossed her head back and laughed. “Well show me what you found!” she demanded.

Satan untied the sack and yanked it up by the bottom corners. Out of the bag tumbled a young, bruised, and bloodied man. His hair was matted to his head and so dirty that one could hardly determine its color beyond just “dingey.”

“How dare you bring me something so disgusting. Clean him up and then present this filth to me again.”

Eager to correct her error, Satan dragger the body to the baths. She scrubbed every inch of him until his skin was pink and his hair returned to copper. She brought him back to her mistress.

“Much better,” Says Beatrice, eying the naked man before her. He is curled into the unforgiving stone floor, finally conscious. “Now that this human is presentable, He shall receive the respect he is due. Prepare a feast immediately, but Beelzebub, you shall join the table.”

“Master, what do you mean?”

A manic grin splits Beatrice’s face, “Don’t ask stupid questions. You are furniture. You shall be both table cloth and platter. My partner will dine off of food placed on your body.”

The blond pales and blushes in equal measure. “Why?- Why…, of course, Master. Why, of course, Master.” She struggles to please her Master in her confusion.

“Why? I want to remake Dante. The mood must be set.” Beatrice laughs and ignores her furniture’s lack of tact. She will be punished in due time, most assuredly.

Beatrice snaps her fingers and a long dining room table appears in the middle of her courtroom. With another snap, all clothes disappear from Beelzebub’s body. Beatrice points at the table only. Sheepishly, the demon climbs onto the table. Now clothed only in her long blonde pigtails, the struggles to preserve her modesty. Beatrice scoffs at such a futile gesture. “Lay flat against the table, like a good table cloth, or I’ll conceive of some way to iron you.” Beelzebub squeaks in alarm and prostrates herself against the wood, chest up, arms at her sides, and looks directly at the ceiling. Only the darting of her eyes betrays her worry about what “ironing” could possibly mean.

Beatrice nods and snaps her fingers once more. Food appears on the furniture. A mountain of sugar-glazed berries rests on the furniture’s small breasts. Cakes dripping in frosting line up along her torso. Heaps of steaming tempura rest only on wax paper above her hips. Beelzebub’s sensitive skin turns pink in response to such intense heat. The wax paper is only for sanitation reasons, not for the comfort or even protection of the furniture. It is obviously only magic that keeps the mountain of fried food standing instead of falling all over the wooden table. Mackerel, octopus, salmon, and bream sashimi cuts run down her legs in military-strict lines. The coldness of the fish must make the fried food burning her hips even more uncomfortable. The sushi stops at Beelzebub’s ankles. Her feet point straight up. Bits of pulpy fruits like raspberries, oranges, grapefruits, kiwis, and figs are shish-kebabbed on her toes, roughly, so that their juices run down her feet, front and back. Battler thinks that her ankles will be marinating in fruit juice before too long. On the whole, the meal looks delicious. It isn’t the healthiest meal, what with all the frosted pastries, or the most conventional, but it looked beautiful displayed on the prone body of the naked woman.

Perhaps it is only the arrival of food, but a hungry look gleams in Beatrice’s eyes. “Battler,” she sing-songs, “seat yourself wherever and eat what looks good. Unoccupied furniture, please go bathe yourselves and reconvene here before he finishes his meal” there is a chorus of “Yes, Master’s“ as they blink out of the room. Beatrice turns her attention to Battler.

“You poor, idiot boy who has never seen me before. You are going to breed my furniture to create my the body of my original interest: Dante.”

Battler nearly choked on the éclair he’d lifted off of Beelzebub’s abdomen. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“You will breed my furniture, and with the right rituals, one will bear the successor of Dante, in form alone.”

“You kidnapped me so that I could get laid? I would have come voluntarily.”

“Most likely, but Satan is always thorough and she has a flair for the dramatic.”

“When do we get started? And give me some clothes already.”

“We start after dinner. There are a few more preparations I must make, and you will not be clothed until you’ve earned clothes. Right now, you are just a stud. You may amount to nothing more than a mindless animal, and that does not deserve clothing.

Battler crosses his arms. “This is ridiculously cryptic for something I’m willingly participating in.”

The pair finishes feasting off of the body of prone Beelzebub. Just as the finish licking the sugar glaze off of the blonde's exposed breasts, the other six furniture enter the room. They all have damp hair and a look of apprehension about them.

Beatrice claps excitedly, and the table disappears, the crumbs disappear from Beelzebub’s body, the poor slave falls clumsily to the ground, and the other sins stay stoic. “Mammon, you shall attend me. The rest of you,” she flicks her gaze to the walls and shackled rain from the ceiling. Lucifer, Leviathan, Belphegor, Beelzebub, Satan, and Asmodeus appear, suspended in the chains, naked and gagged, eyes filled with shock.

A chaise lounge manifests behind Beatrice, and she reclines into it gladly. Mammon, whom she saved for herself, begins to attend her master. Mammon seems to know what Beatrice meant by “attend” because she approached on her hands and knees and started worshipping Beatrice’s body. When Mammon’s head of long, coppery hair disappeared under the folds of the royal purple dress, Beatrice sighed. “Now get to it, pet. Breed my furniture. Fill them with your seed. I’ll be watching so don’t disappoint.”

Battler looked at the task before him: six beautiful girls he would impregnate. Seems fine to him. He decides to work his way across the room, starting with the bitch who had shoved him into a burlap sack, Satan. Her arms are bound above her head like all of the others. They crush the pristine white curls that adorn her brow. Battler looks down at her and says, “It seems you don’t like to be the powerless one. I can only imagine what that is like,” he chuckles, “But they say ‘save the best for last’ so you got to go first.” With one hand he grabs her neck and the other her crotch. He notices she is dry, but it doesn’t sway him. He just withdraws his hand, spits into his palm, and resumes fingering her cunt.

Satan whines behind her gag. Whether it is in pain or pleasure, Battler does not know or care. He bites his ear and then whispers, “I have the power now. You’re just going to be an incubator and a conduit for my pleasure.” Her whines grow louder.

When Battler’s hands grow bored of Satan’s cunt, he wraps her legs around his waist. The shackles suspend her body, so Battler just acts as a fulcrum to balance her body at a convenient angle rather than a support. He now appreciates Beatrice’s decision to keep him unclothed. Naked as an animal, it is simple for him to plunge his cock into the bound demon’s now-dripping cunt.

At first, Battler fucks the furniture lazily. He wants to acclimate to the burning heat and friction before he properly ravages the demon of wrath. He turns part of his split attention back to Beatrice and her attendant. Mammon lays bare, her legs akimbo, her feet hidden under the chaise lounge. She writhes there, on the grey stone floor, being languidly foot-fucked by Beatrice. Beatrice sits on the lounge, her right leg crossed over her left, and gently swinging. With each swing of her knee, the plunges her right foot into the gaping cunt of her greedy slave. Mammon tries to increase her own please by playing with her breasts, but this is not permitted by Beatrice. The master withdraws her foot from Mammon’s cunt, basically her own sock, and grinds her heel against the apex of her crotch, right where the demon’s clit hides. Mammon screams in pain and extasy. Battler hears her over the more gentle noises of the unraveling Satan. Sensing Beatrice’s irritation, Mammon releases her breasts and holds her hands above her head, baring herself completely to her Master and lover. Beatrice resumes fucking Mammon with her foot, her grin even more sadistic than before.

The scene ignites something deep within Battler. He turns his full attention back to Satan. He grips her hips with bruising strength and uses her suspension to swing her onto his cock, again, and again, and again, plunging her onto him with a vengeance he didn’t know he had. The slapping of her hips against his, and the crescendo of her unintelligible cries, drown out all the sounds coming out of Mammon. The room disappears, for all that Battler cares, and he just fucks Satan mindlessly. The food he ate off of Beelzebub must have been laced with some sort of drug because when Battler comes, Satan’s stomach bulges to accommodate his semen. He keeps his cock inside of Satan for a little while so as to plug her vagina. He wants her to marinate in his seed so that it will quicken in her eager womb.

Battler decides to fuck Beelzebub next. She had fed him so well that he feels inclined to give her a reward. The shackled binding her change to accommodate Battler’s wants. He wishes to breed her into the floor like a bitch in heat. Apparently sensing this, the chains elongate so the Beelzebub falls to her knees. Battler fucks Beelzebub until her knees grow bloody, and then he keeps pounding into her upturned ass.

Next to breed is Asmodeus. She is the demon of lust, and the only untouched furniture to look truly excited. The bread furniture, Beelzebub and Satan, are now strung up by their ankles, hanging upside down. They are barely coherent. All the blood has long since rushed into their empty heads, and Battler wanted their cunts to hold his semen like a chalice.

Battler bends Asmodeus over the chaise lounge, next to Beatrice. Mammon is back to licking diligently through the folds of her Master’s pussy. Beatrice ignores her slave and kisses Battler square on the mouth with wild hunger while battler fucks Asmodeus to hell and back. Once battler stuffs Asmodeus with his come, the chains wrap around the blonde demons ankles and string her upside down next to her sisters.

The next incubator to be filled is Lucifer. She is the demon of pride, so even in her compromised position, strung up like a slab of pork in a refrigerator, she maintains her glare. Her hair is black and her red eyes are framed with bangs. Battler slaps her hard across that smug face. “You’d be wise to lose that attitude, cum rag,” He tells her. The chains stretch so that he can shove her against the wall. He crushes her face against the unforgiving stone wall and breeds her. By the time he ejaculates into her warm, fertile womb, she has given up her pride and surrendered to his ministrations.

Battler moves on to Belphegor. The demon of sloth looks comfortable in her restraints. She will not be comfortable for long. Battler wills a second set of shackles to descend from the ceiling. These he attaches to her ankles. The ankle chains shorten until her wrists and ankles are held at the same level and her body curves into a lazy U. He swings Belphegor against his cock as he did to Satan. Once her stomach is bulging with semen, Battler moves on to his final conquest.

Leviathan glares at his with her red eyes and the bitterness of lifetimes of envy. It isn’t that she wants to be bred like an animal, she just hates being ignored. Her sisters all hang like used rags, their cunts and wombs upturned like flower pots to hold Battler’s semen, and she still hangs untouched. Battler thinks to himself that he may be cruel, but he is still a gentleman. He is much obliged indeed to give this bitch what she so primally needs. He bends her over the great oak dining table. He fucks her so hard that the edge of the table presses bruises into her thighs and the heavy table shifts ever so slightly across the stone floor. Only when she is whimpering, whining, cock-stupid and thoroughly used does Battler fill her with his seed. Tired, he still plugs her with his cock like the rest of her sisters. Then, the chains hold her by her ankles with the rest. Battler can’t help but marvel at all the demons' feet suspended in an orderly line along the wall.

  
Battler decides there most certainly had been some sort of aphrodisiac in the feast because he has no other explanation for his sex consecutive and monstrous orgasms. Whatever sort of drug it was, Battler certainly wants some to-go. He had the ability to ejaculate with such a high volume that is would burst any condom. He had plenty of use for a drug like that.

A very relaxed looking Beatrice appeared at Battler’s shoulder. Mammon lay exhausted on the sofa. “Well done, my love,” she said to him. “Now we wait for the harvest.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Constructive comments give me life. 
> 
> My vague attempt at plot is inspired more by Dante's Inferno and Paradisio than the source material. For me, it was a fun sort of cross over.
> 
> If you find me tolerable and want more bad content, my twitter is @goblin_swarm


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